


A Rose's Intoxication

by Morinok



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, F/F, Humanstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morinok/pseuds/Morinok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose works as a bartender, and there's always this one lady who comes in on Fridays and Saturdays, only to study. But when she comes in on a different day, things start to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rose's Intoxication

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is my first Rosemary fanfiction, so don't be too hard on me. Yeah, that's all. Enjoy.

You notice her.

I mean, why wouldn’t you? She’s always sitting there, in that one back corner where she thinks you can’t see her. But of course you can see her, and you believe it’s obvious you notice her. Even though she always comes into this particular bar every Friday and Saturday evening, she doesn’t order any alcohol, simply studying in the back corner of the bar. Why not in a library? You ask yourself. Why couldn’t this young lady simply study in the comfort of her home?

It’s only when you catch her staring that you start to piece things together.

“Rose!” Jade calls from the front door. Looking up, you see her wave goodbye. She’s off her shift early tonight. Your Employer let her off early since it was her and her boyfriend Dave’s anniversary. Six months. A new record for that boy.

You smile just barely wide enough for her to notice; she gives you a toothy grin in return, and exits the bar. 

Now it’s just you. It’s a Wednesday night, so not many people are seated in the dark comfort of the bar. You figure it’s because it’s the middle of the week. On Mondays it’s good to drink out your sorrows over having yet another week to barrel through, and on Fridays it’s good to drink to celebrate the end of the work week. Wednesdays are simply one of those in between days where you’re starting to celebrate the coming of the end of the week but you’re not quite there yet.

At least, this is what you’ve concluded in the last five minutes you’ve been thinking this over. Looking down, you finally notice you’ve been cleaning the same glass the entire time you’ve been thinking, and it’s starting to be re-covered in its own grime. Frowning slightly, you put the glass down. 

Then you look up.

Wait.

Your frown deeply, and almost unknowingly you bring your hand up to tuck a piece of your blonde hair behind your ear. 

She’s here.

But why is she here, you wonder. It is only Wednesday. Following her movements, you see her glide over to her usual spot, but only with a small book tucked under her arm. No bundle of books, pencils stuck behind her ear. Simply…a book.

When she tucks her skirt under her and sits down, she looks up at you. Instantly you feel a blush coming across your cheeks and look down. You grad the nearest dirty glass and begin to clean it. Wait…it’s the same glass you were just cleaning. You set the glass down with an angry huff. Fuck. This is going to be a long night.

You sneak glances at the pretty girl a few more times, looking for a little bit longer each time. The first time you look, you notice her hair is jet black, sticking out at different angles. The second, you notice she’s wearing lipstick that matches her hair, and the third, you notice her lips look positively kissable.

It’s only on the fourth time you sneak a glance that she notices you. When you look up you’re caught in her gaze, dark and smoky, dangerous but beautiful. There’s something she’s trying to convey with her gaze, but it’s hard to analyze. And considering you are majoring in psychology, that’s saying quite a bit. 

She tilts her head a bit to the side, and you allow yourself a smile. But not just a simple smile. It’s not a friendly smile, the kind you give when you just happen to look at a person when they look at you, when both sets of eyes are simply wandering about the room. No, this is a knowing smile, or at least you hope it comes out to be one. One side of your lips tugs a little higher than the other, making it more of a smirk. You raise an eyebrow. You going to come over here? 

And that’s when she promptly closes her book. Her eyes never leaving yours, she leaves the book on the table when she gets up and walks towards you. Her walk is more of a glide, a stride, if you would. Not a strider—no, that is quite different. A stride. Smooth, long strides, a kind of step only a woman very confident of herself would make. You lean against the counter, your smirk widening.

“Hello,” she says, her voice level, and a few notches deeper than your own.

You grab a glass from under the table, along with a bottle of wine. Placing the glass in front of her, you pop the bottle and pour the blood red liquid into a glass. It licks the bottom of the glass before swirling and settling there, and for a moment, that is all you focus on. You know she is watching you. When you do look up, you can see her eyes have widened slightly. You smirk.

“Good evening.”

Pressing two long, black fingernails to the glass, you slide it across the counter. She takes the glass, raising it to her lips and taking a sip. Her eyes never leave yours. When she sets the glass down, she slides it back towards you. Raising an eyebrow, you bite your lower lip ever so slightly, settling your jaw into your palm.

“I do believe that move is against bar policy,” You whisper, making your voice lower than it really is.

“And who is going to find out?”

She raises a suggestive eyebrow, placing the glass in-between two fingers and lifting it up to shoulder level. You take the glass in the same fashion, your nerves tingling when your fingers touch. Her skin is cold, but you’ve always heard it’s good to share body warmth. Perhaps you will get a chance to perhaps…warm her up a bit.

You raise the glass to your mouth, letting the cold alcohol wash over your lips and into your mouth. You watch her the entire time, only tearing your eyes away when you feel the effect of the alcohol. Shivering not from the cold but simply to rid the effects, you let your tongue slid along your lips, picking up the last drops of the wine.

You open your eyes. Your eyes lock with hers. The hair that had been so meticulously tucked behind your ear several times throughout the night has come loose, framing your face. You watch as she tilts her head, reaching out and tucking your hair behind your ear. Your nerves tingle when her fingers glide across your cheek, and you shiver when she runs her fingers through your hair before she tucks it behind your ear. 

But as she’s pulling back, you catch the top of her hands. She stares back at you. You can feel the blood running through your body, the heat in your cheeks. There’s a hammering in your head that attempts to reason with you, but you are long past the point of reason. Your hand slowly slides down hers until your fingers are locked together. Bringing her hand closer, you oh-so carefully bring your lips to the top of her hand. Your lips brush on her skin, planting the lightest of kisses. 

“My name is Rose Lalonde,” you whisper, your lips only centimeters above hers. “And may I have the pleasure of knowing yours?”

She smiles, tilting her head to the side. Her lips part and you catch a glimpse of perfectly white teeth, and the canine teeth that are just slightly too sharp. Then her lips part, and the sweetest of words come from those lips.

“Kanaya Maryam.”

Your lips part in a smile. ‘Kanaya Maryam’ you recite in your brain. The perfect combination of sounds for a name, if you do say so yourself. Dropping your hands to the counter, you stroke her knuckles. There is nothing that can stop that little smirk from appearing on your lips.

“And Miss Maryam, would you do me the pleasure of allowing me to escort you to the nearest hotel so that I may make the most beautiful love to you?” You say, letting the words slip off your tongue like the tunes of a siren calling her prey in. 

She raises an eyebrow, but a smirk accompanies the eyebrow, causing you to believe she will speak only words of tease. “On the first formal meeting? Why Miss Lalonde, how forward you are.”

Your lips split into a full-on grin. Your eyes wander down to the counter for a moment, and in the reflection of the glass, you can see the teasing grin on her lips. Only slightly raising your chin, you raise your eyes to meet hers.

“I never know when you’re going to run away again, burying yourself into your books, so it’s better to guarantee a proper love-making session right now before you disappear,” You say, leaning forward across the counter.

She leans forward, mimicking you. Your eyes wander down to her lips, and you wonder when exactly you will be able to find out how moist and kissable they really are. You peer up at her eyes again, and when you look at them, you can see there is as much lust lying in them as you suppose your own eyes hold. 

Kanaya leans forward. You lean forward just a smidgen more. Then she brushes her lips against your own, a taste, you suppose, of what is to come. You can feel her warm breath on your lips, smell the perfume she’s wearing: The aroma the combination of roses, parchment, and coffee. You breathe it in, documenting the smell. 

“When do you get off work?” she breathes into your lips.

Opening your eyes, you look over her shoulder, just barely peering above the bristles of dark hair to look at the clock. “Five minutes from now,” you whisper back, grinning to yourself of your perfect timing.

She pulls back, and although you lean forward, not wishing for her to leave, she pushes away from the counter, a smile on her black lips. “I will get my book, then,” she says, pivoting around. She gives you a sideways glance over her shoulder. 

You settle into one hip, crossing your arms. Her full hips swaying side to side is certainly an intoxicating motion, and you would even dare to say she is doing it on purpose. Pulling your headband out of your hair, you tuck it into your cubby underneath the bar counter, gathering up your bag and coat. 

Tonight is going to be most exceptional.


End file.
